


A Dubious House Call

by goldenteaset



Series: Type Moon Kink Meme Fills [4]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: (Even though they have sex), Banter, Grinding, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Post-Canon, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: Written for the Type Moon Kink Meme 1/16/15.The prompt: "Post war, at Kiritsugu's living space. Bonus points if Kiritsugu's in a yukata. Bonus points if Kotomine makes fun of Kiritsugu. Do anything as you wish besides bondage."





	A Dubious House Call

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the one and only time I've ever written Kiritsugu's POV! I tried my best; with luck I'll improve on his character in the future. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Zero.

Kiritsugu's a little impressed that he didn't have a heart-attack as soon as he saw who was at the door. _Too bad, he'd probably like that._  
  
"Good afternoon," says (Father) Kotomine Kirei, with a smile that borders somewhere close to normal but doesn't quite make it. The bright sun makes the white of his teeth almost blinding.  
  
"Good afternoon," Kiritsugu replies, bowing slightly. Naturally, Kotomine doesn't return the gesture. "What brings you here?"  
  
"One could almost consider that phrasing to mean I'm unwelcome." Kotomine's smile doesn't give an inch. "I can assure you, I'm no Dead Apostle. Is it so odd that a priest would show up at your doorstep bearing pamphlets to entice you into God's care?"  
  
Kiritsugu looks down at Kotomine's empty hands then back up at him. "I'm surprised you had to make excuses to come see me."  
  
"I'm pleased your vision is still intact." As expected, Kotomine is loath to give answers and eager to wound with words. "I had expected to find you a husk of a man—I'm pleased to be mistaken."  
  
Kiritsugu opens his mouth to reply _I'm sure you are_ , only to look in Kirei's eyes and see—if he squints—a faint look of genuine relief. _I'm sure he has cruel reasons for such a tender emotion...I must be on my guard. I'm glad Shirou isn't here to meet this man._  
  
"To be more to the point," Kotomine says, his impressive brows furrowing slightly in annoyance, "I've come to see if I can make your condition a little better."  
  
"But not heal me completely." Kiritsugu lets out a brittle laugh and reluctantly backs into the house, giving Kotomine space to enter. "I suppose I could let a fellow veteran visit for awhile. But I have the house very strongly warded, so don't try anything."  
  
Kotomine nods his assent. "I can sense them from here—excellent work for a dying man."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment." Kiritsugu can't help but smirk at Kotomine's obvious annoyance that his taunt failed. "Would you like some tea?"  
  
"...Yes," Kotomine said—surprisingly, he has to duck his head to cross the threshold. "Where should I sit?"  
  
Kiritsugu leads him to the kitchen, where Kotomine sits at the table and waits patiently. 

"This is a peaceful home," Kotomine says after a long pause, looking around with mild interest as Kiritsugu takes some cups from the cupboard. "The Einzbern woman no doubt had a hand in your choosing this place."

Kiritsugu holds the smooth lacquered cup as steadily as he can. "I'm sure you could appreciate such a setting. You had a peaceful house and a kind wife of your own, right?"

"I suppose so." Kotomine makes a chuckling noise that holds no mirth in it. "I saw what you did to your own wife and child, in the Grail. That was truly cruel."

"It was necessary. They weren't real, the Grail had... _consumed_ them, and all I could do—"

"—You could have killed yourself. Given the circumstances, _that_ was certainly an option. But you took the path that would cause you the most suffering." Now Kotomine's soft laughter sounds more genuine. "It's almost as though your true wish was to be miserable."

Kiritsugu allows himself a cold smile. "That's your fondest wish for me, huh?"

Kotomine doesn't answer—but of course that's answer enough.

Kiritsugu finishes preparing the tea without a word, as the cicadas outside hold loud conversations of their own. In any other context the sound of tea being poured from the kettle would be soothing. He brings the tray over and sets out the cups with steady hands. Only when Kotomine's fingers brush against his to take the moth-patterned cup does he pull away.

"You seem convinced that I'm going to harm you," Kotomine says, before taking a sip of green tea. He makes a pleased sound, swallows and continues. "It would be redundant to do so. Forgive me if I disappointed you."

"Heh. I'm just glad you're willing to be honest." Kiritsugu sits down at the end of the table and takes a long sip to calm his nerves. "Speaking of which...you're doing pretty well for a dead man yourself."

Kotomine's hand reaches toward his chest, only to be brought down with a sense of finality to the table. His fingers lazily trace patterns in the wood grain. "I'll take that as a compliment. After all, you're the one who shot me."

"Clearly, I either should have aimed better or dragged you away from the mud."

Kotomine's smile grows wider. "Oh, I don't know about that. The Grail seems to have a surprising amount of faith in me."

Kiritsugu scowls. "Are you going to let the Grail be summoned again?"

"I have no say in the matter." Kotomine cracks his neck, the sound reverberating ominously. "The Grail wants—no, _wishes_ to be summoned. I simply hope to still be here when it arrives."

Kiritsugu ponders just how much strength it would take to snap that neck. _Too much. Before, perhaps...but not know. Not unless he lowered his guard._

"But enough of that," Kotomine says, standing without warning. "I came here to help, and help you I shall."

"Tell me what you're planning, first." Kiritsugu glares at him. " _Honestly_."

"I _plan_ to check your vital signs, then your muscles and bones, and then ease what pain I can. Is that plain enough?"

Kiritsugu nods reluctantly. "...I suppose so. I still have enough strength in me to kill you if you try anything."

"I'm quite aware of that." Kotomine makes a point of cracking his knuckles before kneeling down beside him—close enough to touch, but far enough to give Kiritsugu space. "I'll check your heart first."

Kiritsugu keeps his expression carefully neutral as Kirei presses a hand against his yukata-clad chest and orders him to inhale, then exhale. A faint pulse of prana flows into and through him, probing, testing. He keeps his heartbeat steady as best he can—it takes more effort now than he wants to admit. _And it's all thanks to this empty man in front of me._

Not that he's any judge of the state of a person's soul, but frankly with all the power Kotomine Kirei wields nowadays... _At least he can't be corrupted any more than he already is._

"That's an interesting expression," Kotomine says, startling Kiritsugu out of his thoughts. "Tell me if I'm hurting you." A subtle _So that I can enjoy it_ slithers underneath his neutral tone.

"I'm fine," Kiritsugu replies smoothly, as Kirei nods and retracts his hand.

"As expected, your heart's condition is extremely poor. If I had to guess, you have about three years left to live." Kotomine actually sounds disappointed—Kiritsugu wonders if he expected more years or less. "Naturally, it's effecting your breathing, and your blood should be pumping through you more than it is."

Kiritsugu guesses where this observation is going, and quietly waits for Kotomine to get to the point. Unnervingly, the prana pulse is still there, softly thrumming beneath his muscles. It doesn't  _quite_ feel like a violation, but it's eerily close. He doesn't want to give Kotomine the satisfaction of knowing that.

Kotomine clears his throat meaningfully. "It would be hazardous to your health to leave such a thing unchecked. Isn't that so?"

"Would you like some more tea?" Two can play the "answer a question with a question" game.

"Certainly, but first I need an answer: do you want me to ease the burden on your heart, or not?"

_That almost sounds romantic._ "That would be...pleasant."

"Very well, then." Kotomine rolls up his sleeves and edges a little closer. "I feel obliged to warn you: this will be painful, but worth it in the end."

"Thank you for the warning." Kiritsugu braces his hands on his knees. "The sooner it gets done, the better."

Kotomine nods and, after delicately pushing aside the yukata (raising goosebumps over Kiritsugu's skin in the process), presses his hand against Kiritsugu's chest once again.

Both men brace for impact, their muscles tense, their smiles strained.

Kiritsugu grits his teeth as the prana burst from before glows scalding-hot inside his chest. Through the relentless heat comes the trembling strain of his heart slowly repairing itself. Air leaves his lungs in a shuddering gasp.

"Inhale," Kotomine orders, making a point of doing so in a slow, controlled manner, leaving no choice but to follow suit. "Now exhale. _Good._ Now again."

As Kiritsugu forces air back into his burning chest, it slowly dawns on him that his heart is already pumping better, and his lungs don't rattle as much as before. His body begins to feel more alive than it had since Maiya died and Iri was captured.

Not fully aware of his actions, he reaches out for Kotomine's free hand. He's soon met with those free fingers entwining with his.

_His hands aren't as calloused as mine._  Kotomine has cut his middle finger recently; his Black Keys have made subtle grooves and bruises where his knuckles and fingers join. Kotomine has walked in the sun, has walked down the streets of Rome in both funeral processions and celebrations, has held hands with the dying, living, and those in between. 

_...For someone with a frozen soul, his skin is warm._

"—And, _done_ ," Kotomine says, and suddenly the heat vanishes. "You did very well, Kiritsugu."

In the privacy of his own head, Kiritsugu revels at literally breathing easy. "I'm sure you say that to all your patients."

"If that makes you feel at ease." Kotomine lifts their joined hands and, with a smile both pleasant and eerie, presses his smooth lips to Kiritsugu's knuckles. It tickles. "Would you like me to care for anything else?" 

Kiritsugu pries his hand free from Kotomine's and marvels at the way his knuckles go from white to pink in an instant. "...I'm not sure. I think I can guess, but tell me what you did anyway."

Kotomine lets out a soft hum of understanding and adjusts his cushion. "I've given you two more years to live, but no further. Your heart couldn't take any more than that. On that note, I'd recommend not overworking yourself—doing that would only make the wounds open up again, possibly worse than before."

"So no immortality for me, huh? That's fine." Kiritsugu's yukata is still half-open, exposing his pale chest to the cool air and Kotomine's eyes. He quickly tugs the fabric back into place. "I can deal with everything else."

Kotomine's eyebrows rise slightly. "What would 'everything else' entail, exactly?"

"Sore muscles. Stiff joints. That's all."  The words come out harsher than intended.

Of course, that only arouses Kotomine's curiosity further. "I can help with those, too." His fingers twitch longingly; he must want something, anything, to do with his hands. 

Kiritsugu can relate. This house is often empty; sometimes he wishes this place was haunted. He could use the company...and the chance to use his strength again.

For the first time Kiritsugu wonders how much of the visit has to do with seeing an old enemy suffer _and_ being able to use his healing talents. "You haven't had much time to heal people, I gather."

"I've been busy with my other duties as Father of the Fuyuki Church. There are many orphans I need to see to; you could say this is a... _vacation_ of sorts."

"...I see." _I'm still glad Shirou went with me. This man would be a terrible influence._ "I suppose the best thing to say now is..." Kiritsugu's words grow tinged with reluctance. "...Thank you."

"You're welcome." There's a heavy pause, as though they're on a stage instead of at a kitchen table. "Of course, as I'm your guest, it would be impolite to not do something for _me_."

"I was waiting for that. Fine, what is it?" He braces for a fight, keeps his hands half-clenched near his throat. 

Kotomine looks surprised that Kiritsugu agreed so quickly—which soon turns into a smug, slippery smile. "Aside from my hand, you haven't touched me. It seems unfair, don't you think?"

Kiritsugu can't help but laugh. "Are you offering me a chance to kill you?"

"We both know that's not possible—though that does sound amusing, if nothing else." Kirei folds his arms behind his back, his head cocked to one side to show off the vulnerable curve of his neck. "It's merely a chance to touch, nothing more than that."

Kiritsugu hesitates. But only for an instant. Without allowing himself time to feel conflicted he reaches out and brushes his fingers against Kotomine's ear. His fingertip finds a scar where an earring once hung.

"An interesting choice," Kotomine says, his voice acquiring a soft rasp. "Why there?"

"Because you wanted me to touch your neck," Kiritsugu replies bluntly, before moving his hand down to the broad expanse of Kirei's chest. Naturally, there's no heartbeat. But there is the faint feeling of warm, firm flesh beneath the kevlar. "You said _I_ could touch, not that you would _direct_."

Kotomine's laugh vibrates against his palm. "No wonder you preferred freelancing."

Kiritsugu ignores him and instead trails his hand to Kotomine's left shoulder. "Let me see the Command Seals."

Kotomine brings his arm out from behind his back and lets Kiritsugu roll up his sleeve, revealing muscular flesh and the True Magic that adorns them. 

The Command Seals aren't glowing, but as Kiritsugu traces his fingers against the ink-smooth marks, the faint, electric heat of Magecraft rises from them. They truly are fascinating; they're details from another world, another _consciousness._ And here they are plain as day on an arm of the Church. 

Kiritsugu spots his Command Seals, Tohsaka's, Matou's. One intrigues him above all the others. It looks like two ornate arrowheads facing away from each other. _Two paths diverging?_  He lets his mind wander as his fingers trace the curves and points, his pads tingling at the sensation.

"Why that one?" Kotomine asks suddenly, his voice as cool as ever.

"It's new," is the only answer Kiritsugu can offer. "I'm sure you were expecting something more profound..."

"Not really."

_Ouch._ "Do they hurt?"

"Not as badly as being shot in the arm, no." That cuts the conversation short as efficiently as a knife. 

Kiritsugu glances up now and then to see a red flush making its way across Kirei's cheeks, combined with soft, quickening breaths. Powerful muscles tense underneath his soft touch. Kotomine Kirei has been dreaming of this moment.

He smirks with satisfaction. _Not so high above after all. I can use this._  He lets his body relax, allows himself whatever reaction his body wants to show. After all, if this cold man of the Church can't keep himself in check... 

"...Your yukata hides very little, I see." 

"You don't have to look." The smooth cotton tickles and caresses him like a lover's touch; it takes effort to focus. 

Kotomine sighs and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Perhaps I was mistaken about you."

"How so?"

"In truth, I was expecting you to try crushing my genitals."

"Heh. Do you have a fetish?" 

Kotomine looks down his nose at him. "I am what my fellow priests would call _perverse_ , but not a pervert. It merely seems that you wouldn't let your enemy procreate."

"...I'll think about it." Having no further interest in the Command Seals, he rests his hand against the priest's calf instead. "Were you expecting me to be more forward, since I'm far from God's good graces?"

"No one is far from God's love," Kotomine says in a tone that suggests a string was pulled behind his back.

"I suppose not, since you're 'Father Kotomine' now." Much to Kiritsugu's annoyance, neither his hand nor his words get a rise (of any type) out of Kotomine. "It must be Hell, having to care for suffering people."

"Not if I witness their suffering beforehand, no." Kotomine's content expression is enough to make Kiritsugu's skin crawl off his bones. "It would certainly be Hell for _you_ , though." 

"There's as good a reason as any to not visit your church." Kiritsugu isn't sure whether he wants to continue his attempts at flustering this unflappable priest, or go deal with his growing arousal in private before his brain goes numb. "You'd probably get distracted from your sermons if I were around. Hard to be a man of God when you want one of your flock to suffer, right?"

"Mm." Kotomine shifts his leg, and uncontrollably Kiritsugu's hand edges into his taut and muscular thigh, then his lap. Even through his clothes, tantalizing heat radiates from it relentlessly. "Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule. Who knows? A witch hunt could start any day..."

_Here it comes._ "If one _does_ happen, I'll know who to blame—and kill." 

Kotomine's dull, dark eyes light up with amusement. "I'll look forward to it." Without any warning, he grabs Kiritsugu by the collar of his yukata and yanks him forward. 

Kiritsugu topples onto him, wincing as Kotomine's knee nudges sharply against his side. They're so close now their hot breath mingles, and Kiritsugu has a clear view into his "guest's" lightless eyes. Were he a romantic, he would describe them like chocolate, or some other pleasant treat. Instead, they remind him uncomfortably of the Grail mud. _Perhaps you were born in there, instead of in your mother's womb..._

"Oh dear," Kotomine's voice is rich with amusement. "You're quite eager, Emiya Kiritsugu. You'll stain my clothes at this rate." 

"Let go," Kiritsugu growls, as Kotomine's arms drape about his neck and shoulders like a lover. "If you're not going to play by your own rules, I've no need to trust you anymore."

"You trusted me before?" Kotomine purrs, before wrapping his powerful legs around Kiritsugu's waist. "Consider me _honored_."

The priest's hips roll languidly against Kiritsugu's, and he's too shocked to think as heat swims up and down his back. It's been a long time since someone has done this with him. Even in his condition, his erection pulses at this intense heat pressing against him. 

_Should I take advantage of it...?_ It wasn't long ago he wouldn't second guess himself. His hands would be around Kotomine's throat, ridding the world of one more evil. Now he's not sure if he had a plan to begin with. 

Between Kotomine feasting on his neck like he's never tasted something so good and the relentless rocking against his straining erection, Kiritsugu is a teenager again, brainless and desperate.  _Too good—too hot—can't take it...!_  His brain is well aware that ex-Mage Killers don't normally get this turned on from sociopathic priests, but like hell his body plans to put _that_ logic into action.

So he leaves leftover shame at the door and answers Kotomine's motions with his own, stiff joints be damned. His heart's drumming inside his chest, working overtime, and he could very well be bedridden for the rest of the day. He doesn't care. He almost manages to forget that it's Kotomine Kirei he's trembling atop of, struggles to lose himself in bittersweet memories of Iri and Maiya...

...Until Kotomine abruptly stops rutting below him, rolls them over and off each other in a single fluid movement. 

As Kiritsugu fumbles about and tries desperately to catch his breath, a sharp pang of embarrassment hits him—only one of them is hard. And it's not Kotomine.

"No overexertion, remember?" Kotomine chides with another slippery smile, before getting to his feet and heading for the door. "I believe I'll show myself out. Do call if you need me, Kiritsugu."

"...I...wha—?"

"Perhaps I'll visit a few days from now for another check-up. If I find you've been wearing yourself out, well, I may just have to give you some physical therapy exercises to keep you in good shape. But they won't kill you. We wouldn't want to worry your boy, would we?"

Kiritsugu's breath comes out harsh and ragged, like a wild animal's. " _Don't_ come back."

"Too late now. What kind of Healer would I be if I dropped a patient just as he was getting well? Hmm...but I'll leave your current predicament for _you_ to handle. It's sinful, you know. Don't worry, though, I'll pray for you."

With a deep, mocking bow, Kotomine exits.

It takes what feels like eternity for Kiritsugu's body to escape the thrum of adrenaline. After what just happened, his trembling hand feels inadequate, the throbbing release lackluster at best. _Even so...I'd rather die than crawl back to him._

One cold shower later, he immediately triple-checks the barriers around the house and strengthens them—even though every one is as solid as before. _After what just happened, it can't hurt. Now all that's left is for Shirou to come home from school._  

He has many, many things to tell him regarding the Fuyuki Church. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Feedback is appreciated.


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